


Old Grudges

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Hetalia Writer's Monthly [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: As the dust settles on the Napoleonic wars, an old rival reminds Prussia that there are some who still do not trust him.
Relationships: Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia Writer's Monthly [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055744
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Old Grudges

There was a strange feeling in the air, like a mix of fatigue and merriment. The war was over. France was subdued and Napoleon was exiled. It should be a moment for celebration. But a distinct sense of war weariness hung over everything.

Prussia adjusted his cuff of his uniform before looking up the survey the room. He knew the purpose of this kind of diplomatic ball was, especially after concluding a treaty, but he felt no joy in being there. He would rather not deal with all the other German states in this kind of formal setting.

His king had been very clear that he was supposed to strike an impressive figure in the wake of the war. They had done well to lead in battle, and allowed Austria to dominate this form of diplomacy would be a step backwards. He knew well enough that it was his moment to establish himself as a Great Power, but he could think of so many things he would rather do instead of carousing with people who would be his enemies once the thrill of victory wore off.

His gaze scanned the crowd, and tried to make a plan of attack. His attention landed momentarily on Austria in his neat white uniform. How strange it was to contemplate him. He had been a compatriot during the war, but had turned back into a adversary the moment they had started to negotiate the peace. Prussia had no illusions that they had forged a lasting relationship. Only a fool could think so.

Even as he watched, Austria was in deep conversation with Saxony. He thought ruefully that Saxony better be grateful for his rescuer. Given his own way, Prussia would have had his head, but Austria had insisted that executing a cousin was no way to mark a victory. It seemed to Prussia that forgiving traitors also seemed like a poor way to do it, but the decision had been taken out of his hands.

Fed up with the sight, Prussia decided he needed to walk, and find someone sympathetic to him. As he moved through the crowd he found himself thinking of Russia, who had been the only one to agree with him on the matter of Saxony and Poland. He was the only one who seemed to comprehend pain and desire for revenge.

As the thought occurred to him that Russia’s understanding would make him a safe harbor, an all too familiar voice spoke behind him, “Don’t look so smug with yourself, Preußen.”

He turned to face a large figure whose face was fixed in a very familiar look of disdain. He replied, with what he knew was a smirk, “Bayern, how I’ve missed your charm.”

The comment earned him an even darker glare from the blonde. He could have been handsome if he did not insist on deepening those creases between his eyebrows. His features could have been good looking on their own, but the particular arrangement was uniquely off-putting. It was especially so when his face was fixed in that scowl. Prussia could not remember a time that his mere presence had not earned him that look from Bavaria.

The other said, seeming to explain his own statement, “Don’t take too much pride in this victory. You may have defeated Napoleon, but that doesn’t mean anyone is going to trust you.”

Prussia was tired of this kind of distrust. They all cared when he had the strongest army and needed him to drive out a French invader. But naturally Bavaria had to remind him that proving himself would still not win over any of the states that hated him.

He was never certain what he could do to make Bavaria hate him less. It seemed that the moment he chose to break with the church had been unforgivable for some as dogmatically Catholic as Bavaria.

He raised a slightly irritated eyebrow and said, “You trusted me enough to follow me into battle.”

He remembered how strange it had seemed that all of them except for Saxony had been willing to let him take the lead against France. For a moment he had a taste of true respect.

Bavaria scoffed, with a particularly annoying air of arrogance, “I did, when I thought that you had learned to value your brothers. But now I know that you are the same butcher that you have always been.”

The comment was genuinely confusing, because Prussia was certain that they had been perfectly happy with his penchant for bloodshed when he was leading an army. He replied, “It may be your accent, but that sounded like hypocrisy. What are you so mad about?”

He couldn't begin to guess what Bavaria was so upset about after the last few years of tentative companionship. Prussia had done what he could to work with the other German states, which was far more than they deserved considering how some of them had celebrated his humiliation when the war had started.

Bavaria responded, his voice was thick with scorn, “Roderich told me what you tried to do to Christoph. I shouldn’t be surprised that you are a vicious little man who is trying to get rid of your enemies.”

Prussia met the man’s eyes and thought for a moment about defending himself. He could imagine offering all of his reasons that it was not just vengeance. He could speak about Holy Rome’s death, and the way that Saxony had chosen Poland and France over his family. But, he knew that none of it would be meaningful to Bavaria coming from his lips. There was no reason to defend himself to someone who was determined to dislike him.

Instead, he said, “Perhaps you should be more careful about making me your enemy then. I’m not as _little_ as you think. In fact, I plan to get much bigger.”

Prussia knew that it sounded like a threat, and he did not care. He would not be demeaned after all he had done. It was so clear to him that Bavaria still saw him as a small upstart duchy, and that wouldn’t not change even if he was powerful. Bavaria would always look down on him, so he would gladly spit the bile back.

There was an ugly uneven flush in Bavaria’s cheeks, and Prussia took a kind of perverse joy in seeing that his comments had some effect. He hoped that Bavaria seeing him in battle had made it clear that he was someone to be feared. The other responded, “You dare to threaten me when we are supposed to be celebrating peace. You really do think of conquest and nothing else.”

Prussia continued to feel like it was the height of hypocrisy to condemn him for being bellicose when they had been lauding the performance of his army not so long ago.

He felt himself clenching his fists as he tried to calm himself. Half of his mind wished he could challenge Bavaria to a duel and settle it all with a battle of skill. He was aware that the other man was bigger, and probably stronger judging by his muscular frame. But, Prussia was certain that he could still win, because he was faster and knew what he was doing.

Bavaria was a pampered man just like his brother, and his comfortable life had made him weak. He was not one to lead or to fight; he would rather hide in his picturesque mountains and his castles. Prussia was certain that if it came down to a fight between them he could trounce Bavaria. The lion would fall easily with only a push from a nimble eagle.

But, he held back the urge to make the challenge. His king would tell him that they were in no position to have another fight with anyone. The point was to make peace, and to let the army rest.

The twinge in his leg should have reminded Prussia that he was not as healed as he would like because of the length of the war. The wound needed time to fade completely, and unceasing war had not been healing.

While he was aware that he was supposed to making peace even with someone like Bavaria, he refused to apologize for his word. Bavaria had approached him with hostility and he was within his rights to respond in kind. He took a deep breath to calm his rage and he said, “If you are intent on treating me like an enemy, then do not expect me to be friendly to you. I had hoped that the shared war effort would give you newfound fraternal feelings, cousin. Perhaps I am not the one being vindictive.”

Bavaria’s cheeks turned even redder in what was undoubtedly an angry flush. How could a man who couldn’t hide his own frustration hope to be a threat in the political arena? His tells were far too obvious. Bavaria countered, “I don't think one war makes you a hero. But if you want friendship, then here is some friendly advice: Cut your tsarist ties before they damage you and the rest of Europe. Russia may support you for now, but he will use your ambitions to turn you against your family.”

The accusation seemed patently ridiculous, if not also paranoid. Russia had saved Europe from Napoleon, and had done everything he could to support the peace. How close minded it seemed to Prussia to immediately accuse him of ulterior motives. And how deeply ungrateful it was to voice those sentiments here.

It was like no good deed that Russia did would stop Europe from accuse him of being an Asiatic tyrant. Prussia thought for a moment how much it was like his own position of being perpetually treated as the small duchy. He could imagine the ire it must cause Russia to be perceived as such, since it was already making his blood run hot.

He scoffed, though he felt very little real levity, “I assure you, Leopold. If I need advice on my friendships, you will be the last person I ask. How convenient for you that spurning Russia would make me weak.”

Bavaria looked no less angry, but a familiar resignation passed over his face. It meant that he knew he had lost an argument. He simply said, “If you see no issue with his designs on Europe, then you two deserve each other.”

Prussia could not care less about what Bavaria's paranoia imagined Russia's designs to be. He responded, "He is no more dangerous than your brother. Why don’t you worry about what Roderich is planning instead? Or do reserve your scorn for those who aren’t related to you?”

Bavaria shook his head like it was pointless to continue the conversation. He replied, “Why don’t you go find your precious Russian then? I'm sure he is missing his new lapdog.”

Prussia gave the other one more glare before walking away, intent on finding Russia. However, Russia found him instead, and extended his hand to him. He said, “Will you dance with me, Gilbert?” Prussia answered immediately, “I would love to.”

Russia led him away from the crowd, before finally saying, “You look upset about something. What is it? I’ll make it vanish if I can.”

Prussia could hear concern in his voice, and it made him feel the strangest stirring of emotion. He was not used to someone voicing concern for his well-being. Perhaps it was also the large hand placed so gently on his back that was making him feel like he would tell Russia anything he wanted to know.

He felt a deep tenderness as he looked up into the man’s violet eyes, and he said, “I had an argument with Bavaria.”

Russia’s hand tightened slightly on his back, but it was comforting. Russia asked, “About what?” Prussia drew in a breath before responding, “About you. He said that you are going to use me. But don’t worry, I would never trust a word from him.”

Russia smiled slightly and replied, “I am glad to hear that, because I am happy to have a friend.” 

He pulled Prussia closer, and for a fleeting moment Prussia’s mind was on anything but friendship. It did feel good to have those arms hold him.

To diffuse the thoughts, he said, “And you wouldn’t use me, would you?” Russia replied with a smirk that made Prussia’s heart pound, “Only if you asked me to.”


End file.
